


Echoing twilight of your touch

by myideaofbeautiful



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Intoxication, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 21:02:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6923254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myideaofbeautiful/pseuds/myideaofbeautiful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is one of the reason’s Sam never gets drunk, not like this. It’s something akin to a prison break as all of the carefully hidden thoughts and feelings Sam keeps so well locked away jumps open, fills his mind and spills out of his slackened lips. Long buried forbidden needs bubble up to the surface hammering against his carefully constructed walls of reason.<br/>Dean, unfortunately, was one of those needs – the most profound of all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Echoing twilight of your touch

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys  
> Okay so this is my first time writing for this fandom so little nervous...  
> Anyway it's unbeta-ed so I apologize for any mistakes.  
> The character's do not belong to me and I don't make any profit out of this...  
> Hope you guys enjoy!

Sam was completely smashed. His head was spinning pleasantly and his tongue felt too big for his mouth. His own breathing rang loud in his ears echoed by the almost incomprehensible string of words he tried to shape. Dean was next to him a hand hovering behind his back, something that if he had been sober, Sam would have been highly annoyed by but now in his drunken state Sam found himself gravitating towards the warmth those hands seemed to emit.

Dragging his eyes away from the rocking pavement he blinked against the motel lights that seemed ten times brighter than usual. His foot caught on one of the uneven cobblestones and the configuration of yellow and blue lights canted dangerously. Suddenly two strong arms enveloped him and pulled him upright, the heat of Dean’s chest seeping through Sam’s clothes and making his back muscles twitch. If he’d been sound of mind he’d probably already have squirmed out of Dean’s grasp, instead he slumped into it almost succeeding in tipping them backwards.

“Fuck, Sammy. Forgot how heavy you are.” Dean grunted as he tried to heave Sam upright again. Sam’s smile stretched his lips as he turned his head towards where Dean was panting in his ear, his chin hooked over Sam’s shoulder. His nose bumped against Dean’s jaw, the jar causing Sam to huff out a surprised gust of air, hot and moist between them. Dean twitched away, breath hitching slightly but Sam resolutely followed by canting his head further till he once again felt the warmth of Dean’s skin against his own. He inhaled the familiar smell of leather and musk and Dean, traced it, following it like a trail along the side of Dean’s face drawing invisible patterns against the slightly stubble covered skin.

“Sam.” Dean warned his voice low and dangerous and Sam felt a shot of adrenaline run through his body, warming his stomach and speeding the beat of his heart with the heady rush of excitement. The rush of having Dean, all of him, fixed on Sam.

This is one of the reason’s Sam never gets drunk, not like this. It’s something akin to a prison break as all of the carefully hidden thoughts and feelings Sam keeps so well locked away jumps open, fills his mind and spills out of his slackened lips. Long buried forbidden needs bubble up to the surface hammering against his carefully constructed walls of reason.

 Dean, unfortunately, was one of those needs – the most profound of all.

See Sam’s lived most of his life with Dean but he never realized how much attention Dean directed at him till he went to Stanford and found himself wanting. Wanting the smell of Dean’s cologne sticking to the material of his hoodies, wanting the low sound of Dean humming AC/DC filling the Impala, wanting the warm caress of breath on his neck after climbing into the too small motel bed next to Dean – skin plastered with sweat and heart thumping at 100 miles an hour as the last images still flashed behind his blinking eyelids, wanting the weight of Dean’s eyes following him, watching him, guarding him – always.

After returning he’d hoped the wanting would vanish, sated and relieved of tension – only it didn’t feel like it was enough. Sure Dean still hummed, sometimes even full out shouted along to the lyrics of all the tapes he owned, sure the familiar dark musk had seeped back into Sam’s clothes allowing him to carry the phantom of his brother close to his chest. But he could no longer climb into bed next to his brother, bury under the warm covers and hide his face in the worn stained pillow absorbing comfort from the burning line of Dean’s body curling around him while trying not to imagining how it would feel to cross the small strip of space separating them. He could still feel the burn of Dean’s gaze following him but its not the same, never will be the same as before, but Sam wants it to be, if nothing more then, at least, the same as before.

“De” Sam’s breathed close to Dean’s ear refilling the small space between them with humid warmth. Sam can feel a small shiver travel down Dean’s body and he pants out a breathy gasp at the sensation.

Suddenly the warmth of Dean’s body disappears and Sam stumbles almost knocking his jean-clad  knees on the graveled path before Dean’s back, arm curling around his back, harsh pants of breath accompanied by a string of frustrated curses reaching Sam’s buzzing ears. His eyes are cast on the ground, green orbs dark in the night sky, as he leads them stumbling towards their room.

There’s a headache starting up, thumping against Sam’s left temple but the atmosphere radiating off of Dean still pierces the fog of Sam’s sluggish mind.  He tries to speak, tilts his head up more and gets distracted by the clench of Dean’s jaw, a jaw that he traced only moments ago. Sam wants to do it again. Wants to feel the coarse stubble beneath his skin, feel the tendons stretch and move and flex…

“Sammy…”

It takes Sam a moment to look up from where Dean’s fingers are draped over where his own are resting against Dean’s jaw.

His brother’s eyebrows are drawn, eliminating the delicate laugh lines that had started forming around his eyes. His breathing is more ragged than Sam’s own. Sam feels his headache increase as he notices the pain in Dean’s features. He wants to make it stop, wants to make Dean understand that he wants to help, that he can make it better but the look in his brother’s eyes make him stop and go limp in his arms. Dean gives his fingers a slightly too hard squeeze before he lets go and set out to manoeuvre them toward their room.

They stop at the door for a moment, Dean searching his pockets for the key while Sam slouched against the wall his head thumping back as he clenched his eyes shut. The click of the lock echoed loud in the night air and Sam bites down hard on his lip to keep a sob from escaping. Dean pulled him away from the wall and they stumbled through the doorway, Dean kicking the door shut behind him. He led Sam toward one of the beds and settled him atop one.

Sinking down Dean carefully unlaced one of Sam’s boots before pulling it off, the sock following directly after. He stopped a moment running a hand along the underside of Sam’s foot, just hard enough to not tickle, curving over the heel across the bridge and stopping at the tips of Sam’s toes. Dean turns his attention to the marks left behind where the boot bit into Sam’s skin. It’s slow and almost reverend, the callouses on Dean’s fingers catching on his skin and Sam closed his eyes at the sensation before fighting them open needing to watch his brother. Dean stopped, his fingers curling around the back of Sam’s heel as he carefully lowered the foot before moving to the other and repeating the same process over again. After he finished Dean lifted Sam’s legs unto the bed and settled them under the blanket before pulling it up till it reached Sam’s shoulders. He stopped then, his concentrated frown straightening out.

He stood like that for a moment watching Sam and Sam watched him, the room filled with nothing but the sound of their breaths.  Dean nodded once before he turned to leave. Sam’s drooping eyelids snapped open as a flash of panic shot through him. Desperately he fumbled till he extracted his long limbs from beneath the bedding and stretched, reaching for his brother. His fingers grazed Dean’s leather jacket, catching the edges and Sam dug his fingers into the sleek material. Dean’s sigh was somewhere between expiration and irritation. He opened his mouth to speak but Sam beat him to it, forcing out the slurred syllable.

“Ssstay?”

Dean stopped mouth half open in attempted speech, his eyes boring into Sam’s own. Whether his brother heard the plea in his voice or saw the need pooling in his eyes Sam don’t know, his jumbled mind too slow to register much more than Dean’s nod and the low drone of his voice as he answered.

 “Let me just lock up.”

Sam tried nodding but his headache spiked at the attempt and he opted for letting go of Dean’s hand instead. Turning on his side Sam listened as Dean secured the small room, checking the salt lines, before heading into the bathroom for his nightly activities.

Finally the light clicked off and the room darkened. The edge of the blanket lifted and Dean slipped in. Sam clenched his eyes shut, feeling his body hum with familiarity. 

Finally Dean settled in his body curved around Sam’s, the few centimetres separating them searing with energy. Sam lay frozen breath caught in his throat till he felt the first brush of warm breath against his neck.  

***

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!


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